nothing," I replied; and Mr. Henry flew at me in a rage, swore I had
been taught to insult him, and that he would wring my neck off. This he
would have done but for the protection of the chaplain, to whose breast
I flew, and who carried me away to his own room. In a few days I was
consigned to Mr. O'Gallagher, the midshipman, as a present to the
chaplain's patroness, a lady of high rank and celebrated sanctity in
Ireland, near to whose Propaganda the family of O'Gallagher resided. I
was the bearer of a letter of introduction, in which my pious education
and saintly acquirements were set forth, my knowledge of the Creed
exposed, and myself recommended as a means of aiding her ladyship's
proselyting vocation, as animals of less intelligence had done before.
I embarked therefore on board the British frigate--an honour which
had been refused my old master, and was treated with great care and
attention during the voyage. On arriving in a British port, my young
protector got leave of absence, and took a passage in a vessel bound
for Dublin. On the morning of our coming to anchor, my cage was put on
shore on the quay, while O'Gallagher returned to look after his luggage.
Thus left to myself, I soon attracted the attention of a wretched,
squalid-looking animal, something between a scare-crow and a long-armed
gibbon. His melancholy visage dilated into a broad grin the moment he
saw me; and coming up, and making me a bow, he said, "Ah! thin, Poll,
agrah, you're welcome to ould Ireland. Would you take a taste of potato,
just to cure your say-sickness?" and he put a cold potato into my cage,
which he had been gnawing with avidity himself. The potato was among the
first articles of my food in my native paradise, and the recollection of
it awakened associations which softened me towards the poor, hospitable
creature who presented it. Still I hesitated, till he said, "Take it,
Miss, and a thousand welcomes,--take it, agrah, from poor Pat." I took
it with infinite delight; and holding it in my claws, and peeling it
with my beak, began to mutter "Poor Pat! poor Pat!" "Oh, musha, musha!
oh, by the powers!" He cried, "but that's a great bird, any how--just
like a Christian--look here, boys." A crowd now gathered round my
cage, and several exclamations, which recalled my old friends of the
Propaganda, caught my attention. "Oh! queen of glory!" cried one; "Holy
Moses!" exclaimed another; "Blessed rosary!" said a third. I turned
my head from